


By The Way, Can You Survive Hypothermia?

by nezushiet



Category: ActuallyStephen, DanPlan, actuallyoddplan
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The bois go hiking, stephen whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21691852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezushiet/pseuds/nezushiet
Summary: In which Hosuh follows a solitary life in the mountains while Stephen gets dragged on to a hiking trip.Things turn haywire when he gets separated from his group.
Relationships: Hosuh Lee & Stephen Ng, Hosuh Lee/Stephen Ng
Comments: 38
Kudos: 216





	1. 1

Even from the beginning, Stephen never wanted to go on the stupid hiking trip. He simply isn't the type for hour long walks with the fickle weather and insects, and yet, somehow his friends managed to coax him into it. It was solely Dan’s bright idea to invite Jay and him to hike up Mount Yukina. 

In most parts, the terrain incline is a gradual one. Which is a relief. Daniel leads in the front, raving left and right while Jay navigates with a map tucked under his arm. 

“Ah man, isn’t this great?” Dan grins, waving his arms around him. “Wait ‘till we get a little higher, I think you guys will really dig the view.”

“Oh  _ sure  _ Daniel.” Stephen quips from behind. “It’ll be so much fun to go up altitudes where the atmosphere gets even thinner. This isn’t dangerous at all!” 

“It’ll be fine. We’ll take it really slow.”

“You’re really slow!”

They take an occasional break on a log and guzzle from their water bottles. Despite himself, Stephen can’t help but admire how the sunlight filters through the trees while patches of snow glimmer under the sun. The air is crisp and smells of pines as he drapes his jacket closer to his chest. 

The snow crunches under their feet as they trudge closer to the top. By the second hour, they stop by a fenced ledge. Blue mountains trace the horizons. Jay nudges him before pointing far off to a distant field; Stephen squints. Two bulky animals appear to be head butting each other. 

“ Cervus canadensis. Aren’t they cute? ”

“Jay I don't know what that is.” 

“They’re Elk! They’re probably sparring over territory or a potential mate.”

“Yeah probably. Hey Daniel! Jay and I are gonna go get a closer look at an Elk spar!” He cracks a grin at Dan. 

“Alright stop. That’s not what we came here to do. Besides, it’s dangerous.”

“A little danger never hurt anybody. Right Stephen?” Jay chips in. 

“Stop encouraging him!” Daniel lays his face in his palms with a sigh. It’s cold enough for his breath to cloud up. The elk have vanished by the time he glances back over the landscape. 

“Damn, they ran off.” Stephen mutters. 

“Good, now come on! We’re not that much farther.”

The rest of the walk is quiet, aside from Jay occasionally giving instructions. Stephen lingers at the back. He is browsing through pictures of mountains he captured, when a loud snap of twigs distracts him. He snaps his head up. Past some sparse brush, an elk, one who appears much younger than the ones from before, scrapes its antlers against a tree. 

Watching where he steps, Stephen makes his way down the jagged side of the mountain to get a closer shot of the elk. While crouching behind a pine, he slides open the camera app on his screen. The wind picks up a moment, causing a shudder to jerk through him. With a tap, the picture takes in focus, but the elk bolts past him as the light of his flash flares. He startles, hearing the horrible sound of his shoe slipping on ice as he loses his balance. Arms flailing, he realizes there's nothing to grab that can slow his drop. 

“ _ Shit! _ ” He yells, panic rising in his throat.

Seconds pass before he collides with a protruding boulder. There’s a gruesome  _ crack _ , and Stephen’s eyes prickle with tears as he feels his ankle bending out of place. This can’t be happening. He cries in pain, trying not to look at it.

Splotches of snow cover him, some even had managed to slip underneath his tee-shirt. The cold is turning his hands and face numb. The frigid air borderline burns him.

“Daniel? Jay? Help!!” His teeth chatter between his yelling. When trying to crawl back up to the trail, the throbbing in his ankle makes his body recoil. He checks his phone: no signal. 

“Help! Shit, come on!!” Stephen curls in on himself with another curse. Wherever his friends are, they must have heard him. If he just kept on screaming, then they’d reach him faster. 

Minutes drag by and Stephen’s voice starts to go hoarse. There is no sign of anyone anywhere. He is struck with the daunting possibility that no one is coming to save him. Stephen glances at his hands, his fingers a sickly shade of purple. That… isn’t good. 

At some point he thinks things are very still and quiet, aside from the chattering of his teeth and howling wind in his ears. The corners of his vision darken, and it takes him a few seconds to register what's happening. Tunnel vision. He's going to black out. Lost and immobile in the frost. He heaves himself behind another boulder in hopes to stave away the wind. There's a low ringing in his ears as his eyelids fall shut. 

“...ey! Are you awa...?”

When he blearily looks up, a man's slender outline comes into view.

“Fuck, hold o…”

There's an arm snaking under his knees. Another around his shoulder. 

“...'ve got you, i've got y..."”

Even as he bounces slightly in someone’s arms, his mind stills, like caught in a trance. A man’s voice is nearby, but the words escape him. It isn’t long until a door slams, with blurry vision, Stephen’s eyes catch on the bright white and orange flames as his body is set beside a brick fireplace. A sting settles over his skin. His arms are briskly maneuvered above his head before his jacket and shirt, damp from the snow, peels off his skin.

When struggling to crawl away from the fire, his muscles barely budge. With gritted teeth, he tries again, and again. 

Nothing. 

After a blanket is draped over his chest, fingers hooked on his pants, removing the soaked garment until a searing pain blooms around his ankle. Too much.  _ It’s too much _ . With his body stinging from the process of dethawing and the piercing stabs across his ankle, Stephen barely registers that garbled words and hissing are leaving his mouth. He can’t remember why his ankle hurts. And this man, who is he? Why is he undressing him? Is he the one hurting him? 

He’ll kill him. Where is his pocket knife?

He swears, he’ll kill him right here, right now. 

Another wave of pain splinters through his ankle. He keens. His lungs seize up and a breath is choked out of him. 

“I’m sorry! I’m trying to help you! Just— just hang in there, okay?”

Crackles and pops from the firewood are the only audible response. The man's eyes flit to Stephen and back to his leg. His shoulders slump before he pulls off his shawl and lays it over him. It's fairly thick, coffee-black, with little frills around the edges. The other rises, the scuff of his boots on the floor audible in the room. He returns shortly after with a mug cradled in his palms.

"You might get sleepy from this, but you really look like you could use the rest, so here." He kneels a few inches from him. Stephen has not an inkling of trust for that kind of shit. Oh, a stranger wants to give him a drink that will put him to sleep? Totally not suspicious at all!

He cringes away from the steaming yellow mug, causing the other’s features to darken into a frown. 

"Huh? What’s the matter? It’s just camomile tea. You know, _ tea? _ A liquid people drink?"

Stephen itches to clobber the guy but he barely has the strength to close his hand into a fist. It’s unsettling how vulnerable he feels, lying in the shade of the other man’s shadow. His fear must have been ridiculously apparent because the other quickly shifts his tone.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He cooes, flashing the palm of his hand. He drinks from the cup, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “Mmmm, tasty! See?” 

His shoulders slack a little at that. With a glance, he takes a moment to study the other’s features. Most strikingly, his hair resembles dove feathers and ends a little below his shoulders, while his eyes held a quiet demeanor to them. He tucks a loose strand behind his ear before inching closer. Stephen watches the other’s hand reach towards his head.

As fingers card through the hair on the nape of his neck, the man tenderly touches the cup’s rim to Stephen’s mouth. Knowing there isn’t much point to try to fight the stranger, he lets the warm tea slide down his throat. 

“This should help you get your temperature back to normal.” The other murmurs, careful to pull the drink away when Stephen needs to swallow. His head lowers back down to the floor as he hears more tea being poured. 

By the third cup, his eyelids feel like lead weights and he is well over and done with this treatment. He presses his lips into a thin, stubborn line. 

“This is the last one, I promise.”

“Fuc’  _ off.” _ He slurs, jerking his head away. A firm hand steers his chin back. Gray bangs spill over the guy’s face as his thigh shifts under Stephen’s head. 

“If you can cuss me out, then you can finish this.” He guides the cup to his lips. “Drink.” The other doesn’t give him room to object, so he parts his lips.

“There. Good.” The cup is set aside with a  clink .

The steady gaze on him is damn near palpable as he combats the persistent tug of sleep. There’s soft laughter, and he bristles. 

“The hell.. are you laughing for...?”

“It’s just, when I found you, you honestly looked more dead than alive, but now I— I'm really happy to see you looking better. I think you’re going to be okay.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. 

Stephen blinks up at him, cheeks rediscovering heat. He mumbles a half-hearted insult before hiding his red face in the other’s torso. It isn’t long after when his eyes finally close. 


	2. 2

By morning, it’s the chirping of birds outside that stirs him awake. There’s a thick blanket weighing him down into the mattress, and when shifting on his side, he catches the smell of pine clinging to the pillows. Stephen cracks his eyes open; finds the morning light showering him in gold. The events from yesterday flood back to him. He bets that guy must have relocated him here sometime while he was asleep. A familiar pain sings from his ankle; he groans as he sits up on the bed. For the most part, he’s still nude under the covers. He finds his glasses set on a nearby nightstand. 

Cream walls surround him, void of any decor. There’s a wooden desk in one corner of the room with potted ferns granting the room a color accent that complements the pastel blue rug. Stephen finds the aesthetic much too docile for his taste. 

Despite no longer feeling cold, his hands sting. It’s an alarming sensation, something akin to them getting cooked in hot grease. He lifts his hands only to find red bubbles threatening to rupture the skin of his fingers. He sucks in a breath, scrutinizing a particularly bulbous blister behind the nail of his right index finger.

“Oh my god what the hell is  _ that _ ?” he chokes out in abject horror. Never in his life has he seen anything like this before, but the sight is a top-notch cocktail of repulsive and disturbing. 

The noise of floorboards creaking breaks him away from his thoughts.  _ It’s probably that guy from yesterday _ , Stephen assures himself. For the sake of decency, he clutches the blanket up to his chest. A few seconds later, sure enough, a familiar face pops through the doorway. 

“Oh, you’re awake. Good morning!” He ambles inside, his hair haphazardly held together in a loose bun. “I brewed some tea earlier, would—”

“If you try to give me anymore cups of tea, I’ll piss myself in your bed.” Stephen says with a deadpan stare.

“No! Ew don’t do  _ that! _ ” The man doesn’t give Stephen much warning in scooping him up in his arms. The covers crumple to the mattress and Stephen sputters obscenities as his skin hits the cool air.

“Wait no wait put me down!” he fights to worm out of the other’s grasp only to be clutched even tighter. 

“Stop wiggling or I might drop you!” 

“I can walk to the bathroom by myself.” Stephen insists, twisting around in an anaconda hold. 

“What do you mean you can walk? Your ankle is  _ broken _ !” 

He squints at his ankle, which looks like anything but with the puffy gauze and bandages tightly secured around it. The soreness is still fresh and howling.

“Your broken!” he kicks his good leg and manages to flop back onto the bed. He ignores the irritated exhale coming from behind him. 

“Stephen,” warm fingers lock around his arm before he feels himself being hauled back up. It’s hard to balance with only one good foot, but the man keeps him steady. Despite the smoldering look in his eyes, he speaks slowly in a subdued voice. His forehead barely reaches Stephen’s shoulder. It’s a wonder how so much strength can be possessed by such a short person. 

“Holy crap, how do you know who I am?”

“I know from the driver’s license in your wallet.” he pauses, visibly pensive before cracking a smile. “I’m Hosuh, by the way.”

  
  


* * *

With his clothes still in the dryer, Stephen borrows a hoodie and sweatpants, the fit is a little small, but he manages. 

Hosuh’s food reminds him of his mother’s cooking. When the realization strikes him —some moment between bites of french toast coated in cinnamon sugar— he opts to not comment on it. The majority of his meal is spent filling the man in on how he managed to injure himself yesterday. 

“I can’t believe you were only wearing a jacket. That's not very careful.”

“What are you talking about? I’m  _ always _ careful.” he sinks his teeth into an apple, and gives a small lick to the juice skimming the peel. “Someone should have put up a sign warning people about the cliff.”

“Okay well, anyways... ” Hosuh trails off, flipping a page in his medical book. “Ah, here we go. According to what I've found here, you definitely have frostbite.” 

“Well  _ dicks _ .”

“It’s likely what they call superficial.” He taps a page with a degree of finality. 

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you get to keep your fingers.” His eyes lock with him as the corners of his lips quirk into a smile. Stephen wants to demand what’s so amusing about that. 

“Hosuh,” he says, testing the name on his tongue. “How are we gonna fix this?” He waves his misshapened hands in mid-air. 

“Most of it should heal on its own, but I might need to pierce the blister on your index finger to let the fluid drain.” He rises from his chair. “I’ll be right back.”

He returns only a few moments later with an armful of items. A bowl of water, gauze, sewing needle, and various other supplies are arranged over the table. 

“You want to start now?” he asks.

“Just tell me what to do.” Stephen says; he’s not even nervous. It’s pretty obvious the guy has his well being in the best interest.

Hosuh clasps one of Stephen’s hands, dips it inside the bowl of warm water, and begins rubbing the needle with disinfectant. 

“This might hurt a little.” The man grips his blistered finger, needle lightly poised over the sore.

“It already hurts, just do it.”

Hosuh nods before pouring his attention into the task at hand. It doesn’t even take a second for the metal to pierce the skin. A few more holes are created before Hosuh gingerly wraps the drained blister in gauze. 

“All done.” He gives Stephen’s hand some small reassuring pats. ‘I hope that helps.“

Stephen’s lips quirk a little at the gesture. “It does… thank you.”

“As for the other hand, let it soak in this water until I tell you to take it out.” He sets a hand on his hip. “Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

* * *

He soon discovers this Hosuh guy is a major weeaboo. In an attempt to take Stephen’s mind off of things, he pulls out a box from his bookcase, stocked with manga.  _ Romance _ manga. He sets down a stack in front of him with a soft thud. Stephen regards the comics with thinly veiled contempt.

“I… I really don’t know to say.”

“You’re welcome to read any of them if you want.” 

“Hosuh,” he picks up a book with roses and a couple splattered across the cover. “I hate to break this to you, but I find zero use in wasting time on sappy romance stuff like this.”

“Why?” 

“The stuff in books isn’t real life! Actual relationships often end in heartbreak in some form or another, so it isn’t worth all the pain afterwards.” 

“Oh…” Hosuh blinks in surprise. “I guess you have a point, but even when sad things happen, I think finding someone good for you can be worth the risk. Haven’t you ever imagined or wondered about finding that person?”

“I don’t see any point to loving someone when I can just love  _ myself _ .”

Hosuh’s face fell; he rubs the nape of his neck. There's a moment when Stephen wants to say something, possibly anything to lighten the mood, but nothing comes. 

* * *

With the wooden box left nearby, Stephen eventually caves from curiosity. He chooses the least lovey dovey looking one, a story about a cursed girl and her love interest trying to fight an evil wizard. For most of the afternoon Hosuh lingers around, sometimes cooking, sometimes feeding logs into the fireplace. By evening, he lays on the sofa, nose stuck under a manga. 

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Stephen asks. 

Hosuh pauses his reading, blue eyes flicker to him with slightly parted lips. He takes his interest as a yes. 

"Why did you choose this place? Wouldn't you rather live someplace warmer than up here?"

"Hm... I think I'm a warm enough person as it is," Hosuh says simply. 

Stephen rolls his eyes. “Wow. I would be so sick of this place. I mean— being up here all alone, that has to suck sometimes.”

“Not really.” The other sets the book aside and sits up on the sofa. “I get my space and quiet, and at night, you can see every constellation in the sky. There’s literally no light pollution.”

He saunters to the table, taking Stephen’s soaked hand to inspect the condition. There aren’t any visible improvements. His brows knit.

“The water helped.” Stephen says with a shrug, quickly directing his attention to the crackling fire. He is starting to feel increasingly hyper-aware of the other’s warm breath fanning over his knuckles. “The pain is starting to go away.”

“Then I guess that's all that matters.” 

He dabs Stephen’s hand with a dry washcloth, and a stillness settles over the room as Hosuh tidies up the table. 

"When that ankle has recovered, I'm dragging you out to see the stars with me." 

"Me?"

"Yup! And it's going to take your breath away!"

Hosuh's upbeat words pulls a smile on his lips. He glances at his ankle, bandaged and numb from two advils, and hopes that night comes soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Happy Monday! 
> 
> I hope this chapter can be a little mood boost with what has been going down in the Danplan community. In case anyone doesn't know: Stephen has left Danplan, and there is a lot of silence on the other end. I'm really surprised things has dragged out this long, and I feel things are definetely going to be different in the future. Let me know if you want me to continue this series. It's great to see all the love for this ship.  
> Thank you everyone for reading, seriously, every kudo and comment makes my day:)
> 
> I also post updates about my works on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nezushiet) in case anyone wants to get notified as to when I'm getting close to finishing chapters or easter eggs on whats to come


	3. 3

Hosuh doesn’t know it, but he tallies the time passed in a manga page. His options for making it back home is dauntingly limited and hardly assured, and if there is a search and rescue team scouring Mount Yukina, then Stephen is convinced that they aren’t in any rush to find him. 

Because it’s been three days. He would have been long dead by now if not for Hosuh. 

There isn’t a cell phone signal at the cabin, and there’s no way Stephen can navigate himself outside even with Hosuh as a crutch. So he’s stuck in a game of wait while stumbling into Hosuh’s routine. A painkiller per meal, and hand inspection before the shorter man lathers his fingers in a cool beige cream. In the afternoons Hosuh chops wood to feed the fireplace and sometimes sketches in the odd hours between. Getting the blisters to heal has been like trying to swim against a river current. He tells Stephen, worst case scenario, they turn coal black, or get infected. 

He’d be lying if he said the stress wasn’t a little nauseating.

There’s a thought that he shoves in the back of his mind, the concern that no one is actually looking for him. It’s unreasonable, of course it is, but the fear naws at him, persistent. Dan had been rushing ahead on the trail that day, he never even looked back to see if Stephen was still there. 

And then there was Gavin, his younger brother by two years, who specifically told him to be safe. A typical farewell people say almost without thinking. _Have fun and stay safe!_ _See you when you get back!_

Except, this time, Stephen hasn’t been able to get back.

A warm hand falls on his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

Hosuh is right beside him, long hair tapering down over his collarbone; he’s clad in a plaid jacket and sweatpants. 

“Yeah,” He rubs his neck. “Sorry, I was just thinking about my family. They’re probably stressed that I haven’t come home yet.”

“Oh, well, I’m sure there’s people looking for you. It’s probably just that they have a lot of land to cover here.”

He has a point, and really, Stephen knows he just needs to be patient. Admittedly something he has never been great at, but in the meantime, he does have a new friend to hang around. 

This whole ‘falling off a cliff, breaking an ankle and nearly dying from hypothermia” hiking trip wasn’t _all_ shit. 

Not to sound dramatic, but he got to meet Hosuh, who might or might not be a literal angel. 

()

He offers to help Hosuh fold laundry on a whim. There’s still questions floating in his mind that he wants Hosuh to clear up, mainly ones regarding his secluded lifestyle at the cabin. 

“I do have a permit to stay here," Hosuh says, flopping a pair of denim jeans over his forearm. "but I guess you could say I’m a seasonal resident. I visit during the Fall and Spring.” He maneuvers the fabric until it’s a small blue square and drops it in his pile with a soft thud. 

“So where do you stay otherwise?” 

There’s a moment where he doesn’t say anything, then flashes Stephen a coy smile. 

“Nah.” 

“What do you mean ‘ _nah_ ’?” Stephen asks, voice indignant. 

“It’s a secret.” The other’s eyes shine with a playful look as he continues loading clothes into his wicker basket.

“What the heck! That’s unfair, I told you where I was from. Now it’s your turn, Hosuh.”

“Hmm, well—” 

There’s a weak flicker from the ceiling light distracting the two. The lightbulb sputters a few more times before a heavy darkness pluments over the laundry room. Without thinking, Stephen claws his fingers into the thick wool of Hosuh’s jacket. 

“Holy crap— what happened?” He asks, voice wobbly. 

“Oh... that’s probably just the generator. It needs a refil of gas fuel or else the lights go out.” 

Stephen picks up the noise of more fabric shuffling, and a lighter snaps to ignite a small flame, bathing the room in a plae yellow. 

“Honestly,” Hosuh’s eyes glow from the dancing light. “you’re kinda cute when you’re this nervous.”

“N-no, I’m not nervous. _You’re_ nervous, so shut up Hosuh!” Stephen stammers. Annoyed, he cups a hand over his mouth to hide his embarrassment.

“There you go again.” The other says, gently drawing Stephen’s hands away from his face. Hosuh's fingers slide and intertwine with his. “You're such a tsundere.”

Stephen blinks in stunned silence, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. “Y-you… the...“ He gawks, unprepared on how to handle another guy’s affection. What was this… flirting? 

“What?” The other asks in a teasing tone. “...Do you want me to let go?”

“I mean—” His gaze teeters from Hosuh, to their hands, and back to Hosuh. Shadows swim over the other’s face. “I don’t know...” His words tapers into a murmur, and the other lets go with a breathy laugh. 

“Well, I should go deal with that generator.” 

Stephen watches the other turn away. When the door opens with a groan, a panic rises up in him. 

“Hey!” Without thinking, his hands latch on Hosuh’s wrists. The same lumpy, carmine-red hands that Hosuh has tried to heal for the last few days. The words leave him in a rush, and there’s something astonishing about how hopeful his voice sounds. 

“Do you like me?” 

Hosuh stops, shock painted over his features with pink dusting his cheeks. The flush and Hosuh’s glossy hair combined is raising the man’s beauty to a formidable level. 

Oh god, he can’t be attracted to him. No. There’s no way.

“N-not like it matters or anything.” Stephen adds, quieter this time. His hand falls back to his side. 

“Tsundere.” The other smiles behind the trembling flame. 

“I don’t know your weeaboo talk Hosuh!” Stephen retorts. “What is a tsundere?”

“I better go get to that generator.” Hosuh drawls, completely disregarding the question and vanishing behind the door. 

Stephen releases a sigh he hadn’t realized he had been holding in, sagging a little down the wall. Something tells him that it is going to take a much different approach to get answers from Hosuh. The guy seems to enjoy dodging those questions, but it’s frustrating in the least for Stephen’s sake. He found the other man attractive, and admittedly, sometimes that makes him nervous, but they were friends. Part of him wanted to grab the other by the shoulders and hear Hosuh say it, out loud and in the plain air. If Hosuh said it, then he’d be assured that the hand holding was just a friendly gesture. 

He feels more determined when he straightens against the wall. He’d damn well get an answer. He was convinced. Why? Because he is Stephen, and Hosuh will have to realize that he is a fantastic individual worthy of _all_ answers. 

Goosebumps prickled down his arms as he fumbles blind from the lack of light. With one hand scaling the chalky wall, he hops on his good foot to get the front door. Outside, he sucks in a breath, cold air taking root in his lungs. The sky burns in pink and orange hues while the evening sun creeps behind the trees. There is something truly inspiring to Stephen about sunsets. They’re always so bright and eye-catching, just like him. Amid the swarm of towering pine trees, he spots Hosuh returning from a small shed. The wind picks up, ruffling his hair and causing a shudder to wrack through the man’s shorter frame. 

“Do you hear that?” Hosuh calls, boots crunching over the snow.

Before he can answer, a revving sound grows in the distance. He squints his eyes, and seconds later he sees it. Above the treetops, glides a helicopter through the sky. It’s heading towards the cabin.

“Hey! Heey!” Hosuh screams, swinging up his arms. “Down here! He’s down here!”

When the helicopter begins slowsing it’s pace, Stephen knows they’ve been spotted. Hosuh jogs over, pointing at the helicopter suspended over the cabin,

“What did I tell you? I knew help would show. Can you believe it?” He claps Stephen’s shoulder. “You’re going home!”

Stephen stares at Hosuh’s teeth-flashing grin, and suddenly all his former confidence plumments. It feels like there’s a hundred words perched on the tip of his tongue, jumbling together like a freak highway accident. 

A few seconds of static pass before an official’s voice resounds from above.

“Please remain calm. We are lowering a stretcher down for you. Secure yourself on it when it reaches the ground.”

He glances at Hosuh with knit brows. Gray hair whips around him wildly as the roar from the helicopter is near deafening. 


End file.
